


Spring at Last

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [121]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-08
Updated: 2008-04-08
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4149960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The change of seasons invigorates Quinn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring at Last

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, Carol, and Padawan Sue  
> Mali Wane for posting  
> My former betas: Alex and Ula
> 
> To Carol

Quinn was in his element.  
  
He sat on the patio outside Oppo's, which had just opened for the rest of the semester. A half-finished banana smoothie anchored his pile of papers. Breezy and 62 degrees, the early-evening weather was perfect for working in short-sleeves. His lecture notes had become a breeze, too -- the Departmental Council had finally agreed to his beloved Tolkien seminar.  
  
He was currently preparing a talk on the contrast between the womb-like security of Bag End, spreading outward to Hobbiton, the Westfarthing, and The Shire as a whole, and the Wider World that Bilbo ventured into, under protest. Like the journey from childhood to adulthood, each stage became progressively harder, with lessons learned from previous adventures the only hope in surmounting new challenges.  
  
Like all good fairy tales, The Hobbit's hero was an Everyman, who enjoyed the pleasures of the table and a beautiful spring day. Quinn's favorite wizard, Gandalf, was really Bilbo's 'fairy godfather', his catalyst for growth and self-knowledge.  
  
Ah, here was Quinn's own catalyst for these very things: Ian himself. The sun seemed even brighter when Ian stalked towards him. Fresh from gymnastics coaching, his husband exuded the natural predatory grace acrobatics brought out in him.  
  
He knew better, especially after his indiscretion on Valentine's Day, than to let himself react to Ian's sensuality, although he noticed a few pairs of eyes tracking his husband avidly. "Wait until tonight," he admonished himself, one of his most oft-repeated mantras.  
  
He noted with relief that Ian's hair was damp; his lad had started showering with the team again this week, after a year of washing at home. Just part of the emotional fallout from Derek Vedder's flinch at Ian's hands.  
  
When Ian's fingers gripped his shoulder in greeting, a drop of water flicked onto Quinn's cheek. There was something deliciously intimate about this, he reflected, as he waited for it to roll down towards his lips so he could lick it off.  
  
Ian caught his eye as his tongue darted out, and the mischief in that look almost undid Quinn's earlier resolve. But the sounds of students chatting a few feet away reminded him to focus on the reality of campus life around him.  
  
He shared a very married smile with Ian, and watched appreciatively as he dropped onto the bench beside him, after brushing off a few white blossoms.  
  
"Hey, Quinn." Ian squinted over at his lecture notes. "Ah, the seminar. You lucky dog!"  
  
"I am lucky, now, aren't I?" He leaned his elbows on the bench, an insufferable grin playing on his lips.  
  
"You don't know how very!" Ian answered with a playful wink. "Maybe I'll get a course on Pynchon sometime in the next 49 years."  
  
Quinn chuckled. "Dream on. The Council would never go for it. That lot hasn't evolved in the last half-century."  
  
"Ready to go?" Ian somehow managed to make that innocuous comment full of promise.  
  
Quinn nodded and stowed his PDA and papers in his briefcase. He and Ian walked to the Taton parking lot and found the THX. While Ian clicked on Bowie's 'Changes', Quinn rolled the ragtop down and put the 1138 in gear. The sun set in streaks of orange and purple as they headed for Alder Run.  
  
His hair blowing out behind him as he drove, Quinn grinned as he listened to Ian's duet with Bowie. The traffic was light tonight, so his lad's hand found its home on his thigh. He was almost sorry when they turned into their lane, until he thought of the delights to come.  
  
While Ian took care of Artoo and Sandy, Quinn headed for the bedroom. One look at their sheets, still funky from this morning, convinced him to move the party to Ian's office in the spare bedroom. Grabbing an armful of books from the foot of the bed, he all but threw them on a closet shelf in his haste to make way for their loving.  
  
Ian found him yanking down the comforter. "In a hurry?" he drawled.  
  
Quinn turned around to look at him, the effects of Ian's teasing plain on his face. "A pity to toss that shirt, laddie," he said deceptively mildly.  
  
Ian undid the buttons -- fast -- then let the shirt sail off somewhere in the vicinity of the desk chair. Quinn took the one step needed to kiss him, thus ensuring Ian didn't know or care where it actually landed.  
  
He felt Ian's chest despite his shirt, some of his wiry hairs poking him through the cotton. Kissing Ian until his legs wobbled, Quinn scooped him up and spread him on the bed. He knelt over him, staring at that gorgeous chest, while Ian gazed at him imploringly.  
  
"Ah, lad! Couldya be any more of a temptation?" Now was the time to tease Ian back. Quinn barely brushed his lips with his own, earning a groan of frustration, then ran his tongue in random swirls across his chest.  
  
When Ian tried to push his head lower, Quinn just kissed him and started all over again at the top. Learning fast, Ian just let it happen. Quinn rewarded him with the feel of stubble dragging over his stomach.  
  
Unzipping his slacks, and pulling them down with his boxer briefs, Quinn broadened his canvas with one stroke. By this time, Ian was panting in anticipation. He let his need speak for him and all but waved his erection in Quinn's face.  
  
Quinn took pity on him and left his luscious hips for later. He gobbled him down to the root, savoring both the taste and his husband's shout. Forearms restraining Ian's trembling thighs, he feasted on his shaft, alternately nibbling and devouring. Coaxing pre-come out with his tongue, he wrapped his hand around Ian and pulled with the perfect pressure.  
  
It was too much. Warm hand and warmer tongue had Ian coming into his mouth in rich gushes as Ian wailed above him. He tried to swallow it all, but a couple of dribbles down his chin eluded him. Ian fell back on the sheet with a little cry, and Quinn's head sank onto his thigh.  
  
Stillness on the bed, save for Quinn's twitching erection, drilling into the mattress through layers of clothes and bedding. Quinn was startled when Ian heaved himself up and pulled him into his arms.  
  
"Didn't think I'd fall asleep on ya?" Ian whispered.  
  
Now Quinn's erection was where it belonged, pressing into Ian's soft, wet shaft. "Oh, laddie."  
  
But there was still clothing between them, a problem Ian quickly corrected by unzipping him carefully and taking his straining length in hand. No lubricant needed with his pre-come drizzling down his erection after the extended foreplay.  
  
He was in expert hands. Ian knew just what touches made him whimper, made him groan, made him beg. And he used them all, in seemingly random strokes that kept on building. Ian kissed him with such love as his fingers tightened around him that he was unable to hold back any longer.  
  
He came into Ian's hand with a grunt and was filled by the blue-green joy in his husband's eyes. Dropping onto Ian's shoulder, he tried to catch his breath and succeeded after a few gasps. The next thing he was aware of was gentle kisses on his forehead and the warmth of Ian's breath.  
  
Ian cleaned him tenderly, then himself, and pulled the covers over them. The outside lights on this part of the house slanted into the bedroom at a different angle. Just as he was getting used to it, Quinn fell asleep in Ian's arms.  
  
Spring had truly sprung.


End file.
